Our website is made possible by displaying online advertisements to our visitors.
Please consider supporting us by disabling your ad blocker.




 Printer Friendly Version ] [ Report Abuse ]
Back Next

Riddikulus by The Daily Prophet
Chapter 7 : In Which Halloween and Firewhiskey Happen
 
Rating: 15+Chapter Reviews: 4


Font:  
Background:   Font color:  

A/N: Thanks for all the reads and reviews on the last chapter! :) It means a ton to know that there are people enjoying the story thus far. ;) Anywhooo, this was starting to become a ridiculously (no pun intended) long chapter, so I've split it up, but the next one will be up soon. :)

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Harry Potter – If I did, the final book would have been a lot less depressing...






Chapter Seven

In Which Halloween and Firewhiskey Happen



 

 

The next two days passed surprisingly smoothly.

As always, everything I did was laced with a certain paranoia about whatever it was Potter insisted he had planted in our dorm, but whatever it was hadn't been much of a bother, save maybe a few stray bumps in the night. The state of ecstasy in the Gryffindor house on account of winning Saturday's match had gradually begun to decline, the halls were buzzing with excitement for the Halloween party, and for the most part, everything was normal.

Well, as normal as things could ever be at Hogwarts, but I can't even touch the surface of that.

"I can't believe she didn't believe me," Sarah grumbled as we stalked out of Transfiguration on Thursday morning.

I snorted. "Who'd have thought that 'a geranium ate my homework' wouldn't be accepted as a valid excuse," I shook my head.

"I was telling the truth!" Sarah defended herself.

"That doesn't mean McGonagall's likely to believe you," Bailey pointed out. "She's been putting up with Gryffindor antics since before all of us were born – She taught most of our parents, I think... That's a scary thought."

Sarah huffed, and muttered something about a reprisal of the giant tarantula episode, although I had no memory of it. Still, it was nice to not be the bitter one of our group for once.

Bailey grinned and held up that damn polaroid camera of hers. "Smile, love."

Sarah was making a rather rude gesture with her hand when the picture was taken, and Bailey rolled her eyes, muttering something about Sarah being "a waste of film".

I lingered in the doorway of the Potions classroom, regretting my decision to crawl (Yes, crawl) out of bed that morning.

"I hate potions," I muttered to Tara as we sat down.

Tara raised an eyebrow. "If it helps, you've made me hate it, too."

"It does," I grumbled as I grabbed my quill.

See, Tara and I had been lucky enough to be paired together for Potions at the beginning of the year, except she was actually decent in that class, so I ended up bringing both of us down. She didn't necessarily mind, though, and I'm sure we at least enjoyed ourselves more than Bailey, who'd been paired with Eoin, but Tara had long since given up her attempts to help me in that class.

Mostly, she just kept me from burning my eyebrows off.

It'd only happened once that year, so she seemed to be helping.

"What the bloody hell is the difference between moonstone and wishing stone?" I asked irritably.

So much for being the non-irritable member of our group.

Tarah raised her eyebrows, seemingly waiting for me to realize how stupid a question that was.

I continued to stare; I had no clue.

Tara rolled her eyes and laughed. "It's the same thing, love. Same stone, different name."

"Well who's the git that decided it'd have two names?" I demanded.

Tara shrugged. "Probably someone who's a lot better at this than you," She pointed out.

I huffed, snatched the powdered moonstone off the desk, and returned my attention to the recipe in my book.

I glanced at Tara out of the corner of my eye, who was watching me with amusement. I narrowed my eyes at her as I dumped in the moonstone, and grumpily stirred it into the potion.

I scrunched up my face. "It's blue. Is it supposed to be blue? Because the book says it should be green, but I followed the instruct-"

Tara laughed and grabbed the textbook from me, and skimmed over the recipe. "Stir counter-clockwise, love."

"Oh."

Tara laughed and took over, and I offered to read the instructions to her, as even I couldn't mess that up. We managed to clean up the mess and redo it without Griffiths noticing, but that put us way behind the other students. Even Bailey and Eoin were ahead of us, for Merlin's sake!

Tara looked up from the cauldron to prompt me for the next step.

"Erm... Add porcupine quills until it turns turquoise..." I said, though it was phrased more as a question than instructions.

"You sure?" Tara asked with a laugh, as I'd already skipped a few steps accidentally, though fortunately Tara had the sense to double check before listening to me.

"Yes?"

Tara looked both amused and exasperated, but dumped a few quills in, as instructed.

"Oh, Godric, wait – We were supposed to wait for it to turn orange," I groaned.

Tara slammed her head on the desk. "Bloody wonderful. Now the poor soul who we've hypothetically administered our Draught of Peace to has slipped into an irreversible sleep," she sighed.

Professor Griffiths walked over (probably having smelled sulfuric odor coming from our potion) and raised an eyebrow at our mess.

Dark grey steam rose from the cauldron, and the potion seemed to have congealed and stuck to the sides.

"Hayward, Simmons; What's happened?"

I gulped, and Tara and I exchanged a sheepish glance.

"Well, you see, sir, erm... I think that we've forgotten something..." I said unsurely.

Professor Griffiths eyed the potion (and likely us) with disgust. "I can see that. So, fifth years," He said, addressing the rest of the class, although he motioned towards Tara and I, "This is a perfect example of what not to do when brewing the Draught of Peace."

My face heated up, although I wasn't sure why; By that point, I'd been embarrassed in that class so many times that people purposely avoided my cauldron if they knew we were working on a difficult potion, lest their robes get caught on fire.

I saw Potter eyeing the steam by that point billowing from the cauldron and raise his hand.

I did my best to hide my face behind my hair, cursing myself for cutting it so short.

"Yes, Potter?" Griffiths asked warily.

James glanced back at our potion, although he avoided Tara's and my gazes.

"Well, Professor... I sort of actually saw what happened, and if they added extra powdered unicorn horn, wouldn't it counter the affects of adding the quills prematurely, and speed up the process?"

I gaped at him.

Griffiths shot us an intrigued gaze.

"Miss Hayward, is that what you were attempting to do?" He asked Tara, as he knew I wouldn't think of that.

Tara's head shot up at her name, and she looked around, startled.

Bailey nodded at her frantically, and Tara caught on quickly.

"Er... Yes, Professor. We... Just wanted to see if it'd work... I suppose it didn't."

Professor Griffiths nodded at her, though he looked a bit shocked that we hadn't messed up. "Well, Miss Hayward, it would appear that you may still be able to add the unicorn horn, but in the future, it would be appreciated it you'd keep your experimenting out of my classroom."

Tara nodded quickly and there were a few stray giggles around the classroom. Griffiths silenced all of them with a glare. That man was scary. 

Tara and I scrambled to figure out how much powdered unicorn horn to add as soon as Griffiths had turned his back, and actually ended up being one of the first groups to finish (no thanks to me).

My pride was still recovering from the near-disaster (although, admittedly, I'd done much worse in Potions class) as I gathered my things and shoved them into my rucksack. I hurriedly slung my bag over my shoulder and rushed to the door, looking at the ground to avoid Griffith's eye.

And I ran into someone and ended up sprawled on the floor.

I heard a laugh from in front of me and looked up, and immediately regretted it.

"Potter," I grumbled as I glared, and tried to look as dignified as one can while sprawled on the floor with parchment littered everywhere.

A laugh escaped his lips, but he reached down to help me up.

I, of course, refused.

Potter raised an eyebrow. "Right," he said, acknowledging my refusal. "Now, is that anyway to treat someone who saved your arse from Griffiths a couple minutes ago?"

I sighed crossly and started to gather my things from the floor, doing my best to ignore my rapidly reddening face. "It is when they act like a prat about it."

"Which I didn't plan on doing until you started acting like I murdered your pigmy puff in cold blood," Potter smirked.

"Surprised you haven't tried something like that by now," I muttered.

"Trust me, I've thought about it, but you've only got an owl, right?"

I rolled my eyes. "I see you've done your research."

"Simmons, half our year's been attacked by your demonic bird," Potter said wryly.

I gave a sarcastic smile. "Not true; I've just given Edwin special instructions to go after you," I lied. Even if I had, that damn owl never listened to me. Probably because I'd cursed him with the name Edwin back in first year... But the past is the past, right?

"So maybe you sending me your thanks via owl for the Potions save isn't the best idea," he smirked.

I sighed. Potter and I could honestly go back and forth for hours if we wanted, but I didn't have time for that. I had to be at my next class in five minutes, and if Potter and I were both late, the Hogwarts rumor mill would be buzzing with some horrific story about us by lunch time.

"You know what, Potter, thanks for the Potions save."

James blinked and looked taken aback.

I felt a smirk growing on my own face. Ah, the irony. "And I'd hurry to Charms if I were you, seeing as you've now got four minutes to make it to the other side of the castle."

I hurried out of the room, taking more willpower than I'd care to admit not to pump my fist in the air to celebrate my first interaction with Potter that hadn't ended in me losing all semblances of sanity somewhere in the conversation. I mean, I still sort of wanted to dump the potion he'd helped save on his arrogant head, but I hadn't, so... That was an accomplishment.

Then again, I'd started the conversation by running into him and snapping at him from the floor...

So there's always room for improvement.

. . .

The rest of the week was torture.

We'd been working on Switching Spells in Transfiguration, reviewing Summoning Charms in Flitwick's class, and creating senseless charts in Astronomy. In Herbology, we'd moved on from Fanged Geraniums to the properties of Gilly Weed, and I was glad to be working with a plant that couldn't eat me for once. We'd finally stopped studying the Boggart in Defense Against the Darks Arts, although Professor Lupin had seemed a bit too reluctant to tell us what he'd done with it afterwards.

And some of the things bored students did with advanced magic was scary.

I'd had my quill summoned away from me three times while writing a Charms essay, and had my telescope Transfigured into a bloody snake in the middle of Astronomy in just one day.

In other words, fifth year was hell.

"I know I've said it before, but I mean it this time when I say I'm dropping out of Hogwarts," I moaned, sprawled on the floor of the dorm with parchment over my face and a quill stuck in my hair.

"We could run away and start a brothel," Bailey giggled. She had an ink stain on her forehead and a look in her eyes that I was fairly certain meant she was delirious from sleep deprivation. 

"I'd join you," Sarah declared, slamming her spellbook closed and sighing. "I think I'm starting to go cross-eyed from all this reading, and it's only October."

Tara nodded dazedly and stopped writing, flexing her cramped hand. "Legalities don't matter," She muttered. "If we use magic, we can get away with practically anything in the Muggle world. There'd probably have to be some plastic surgery involved if we were to be successful, though..."

"Merlin, Tara! You're actually considering this," I shrieked with a laugh.

Tara shrugged helplessly. "It's better than Charms!"

Sarah shook her head. "Y'know, it actually – Oh!"

We all looked up, and Sarah grinned.

"Today's Friday!" She said gleefully.

I nodded. "The perfect opportunity to test my limits and sleep for the next forty eight hours straight."

"Nope! Tomorrow's Halloween," Sarah grinned wickedly, "And you lot are coming with me to the House party."

"Oh, hell, no!" Tara protested. "Maybe I should've mentioned this earlier, but I need sleep to live!"

"Oi, you're supposed to be the sociable one!" Sarah laughed. "And I don't care. You lot can sleep until dinner tomorrow if you want, but after that, we're going to the party."

"I don't want to wear a costume," I groaned, attempting to untangle the quill from my hair.

Bailey nodded. "Halloween parties are just an excuse for girls to wear nothing but makeup and lingerie and for guys to get drunk off their arses and make terrible pickup lines involving costumes."

I laughed. "Okay, we are not doing this today. I'm done being intellectual."

See, last time we'd had a discussion remotely to do with feminism, it had turned into an hour long collective ranting time, a poorly planned protest in the Great Hall, and three days of detention for "inciting unrest amongst students".

We may have gone about it in the wrong way...

Bailey huffed, but relented.

"C'mon; It'll be fun if all of us go together," Sarah insisted. "Anyway, just find some generic, simple costume and problem solved."

Tara grinned. "I should wear my Wonder Woman onesie."

I shot her a puzzled look. "Your what?"

Tara rolled her eyes. "Wizards are so uncultured."

"I resent that!"

Tara laughed. "I didn't mean it like that. Anyway, if the rest of you will go, I will."

Bailey and I exchanged a glance.

"Fine," I relented. "But you lot are helping me find a costume."

Bailey sighed. "Me, too, I guess." She giggled. "And maybe Charlie will drunkenly chat up James again. That'd make the whole night worth it."

I threw my Defense Against the Dark Arts book at her, but missed. It was probably for the best, though, because it was a damn heavy book.

"It's happened twice!" Bailey went on with a grin, hiding behind a pillow she'd grabbed from the bed.

"Has not," I grumbled. "It's just the only time I can have a civil conversation with him is when I'm not thinking straight."

Bailey rolled her eyes. "You're ridiculous."

"I know," I laughed. "But no more than any of you."

Tara cocked her head to the side. "Hmmm... No, I'd say we're decidedly less ridiculous than Charlie. What do you think, Sarah?"

"Oh, yeah; Definitely less ridiculous."

I put a hand over my heart. "Mutiny! Betrayal! How could you?"

Bailey launched her pillow at me, and I faked a somewhat dramatic, absolutely cringe-worthy death.

"Like I said; Ridiculous."

. . . 

Agreeing to go with Sarah to the Halloween party had been a terrible idea.

Firstly, there was the matter of obtaining costumes a day in advance. None of us had felt like sneaking into Hogsmeade after the disasterous week, so we'd had to get pretty creative with things we found around the dorm.

The results were absolutely terrifying. 

Tara had flatly refused to wear anything other than her positively horrendous onesie, which we discovered rather set the tone for the rest of our costumes.

Sarah... Was a Snitch. It was hilarious, honestly.

I grinned and held up a cheap golden eyeshadow. "Y'know, I'd have never though that this would be useful..."

"I hate you lot," Sarah muttered darkly as we assaulted her with every golden object in the room.

She wore basically wore anything golden that we'd been able to find in the dorm, and we'd all delighted in assaulting her with makeup and drawing wings on the side of her forehead.

"It's actually sort of come together..." Tara tried.

Sarah laughed and shook her head. "Don't even try to tell me I look alright. It's Halloween, though, so what's the point if I don't look horrendous?"

"You don't, though!" Bailey insisted. "We may have attacked you with makeup, but it looks good, I swear!"

"You pull off the dress pretty well," I put in with a grin.

Sarah considered helping the rest of us with our costumes to be her revenge.

Bailey had decided to go as Godric Gryffindor.

Since we'd basically given all our gold articles of clothing to Sarah, Bailey wore a red shirt and jeans, but we'd gotten even more creative with her costume and ripped the curtains from Tara's bed to make a cape (Godric seemed like the heroic type, we supposed).

...And we'd stolen the sword of Godric Gryffindor.

Well, technically, Sarah jokingly had asked Fred to do it, but none of us had thought that he'd actually do it.

We'd probably face the consequences later, but it helped Bailey's costume, so we were alright with it for the time being.

And I'd gone as Moaning Myrtle, because why the hell not?

I'd come to regret my decision after my mates stuck a toilet seat around my neck and put a terrible pair of glasses over my eyes, but it earned a lot of laughs. I'm not sure if that's a good or bad thing, but I can say that agreeing to go at all was probably a rather ill-conceived idea.

After all of us had put the finishing touches on our cringeworthy costumes, we headed down to the common room, and after poking our heads out the portrait hole to check for teachers, hurried through the corridors to the Room of Requirement.

"Charlie," Bailey hissed, grabbing my sleeve and yanking me backward as I rounded a corner.

"What?" I asked, somewhat irritably.

Sarah rolled her eyes and shoved a hand over my mouth. I grumbled against her palm, but the protestations died down as she motioned around the corner, where Professor Chambers was just leaving her office.

Sarah raised her eyebrows, motioned to be quiet, and removed her hand just before I got annoyed enough to lick her palm.

We pressed ourselves against the wall and prayed Chambers didn't walk our way. Apparently, we got lucky, as soon the footsteps faded, and we breathed a collective sigh of relief.

Sometimes I really question the Sorting Hat's judgement in placing all of us in Gryffindor.

The teachers had been making precautions to prepare for Halloween night since the beginning of the year, as the Gryffindors had developed something of a reputation for their Halloween parties. The teachers knew it, too, so the location changed every year.

And that year the new location happened to be the Room of Requirement, which was a bit far from the dorm for my taste.

I made sure Chambers was out of earshot before rounding on my mates sheepishly. "I saw her," I grumbled in annoyance.

Tara raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure you did, love."

"But from now on, maybe proceed with a bit more caution, yeah?" Bailey laughed.

I huffed, but made an effort to keep my grumbling more quiet the rest of the way to the Room.

A few stray ghosts floated around the halls, and I'm sure that the noises heard from broom closets meant there were a few stray couples out too, but we made it the rest of the way without incident.

When we finally managed to remember where the entrance was (and how to get in), we opened the door to absolute chaos.

Costumed, already inebriated Gryffindors swayed to music, and drinks sloshed, and people screamed and laughed and sang terribly.

A grin tugged at the corners of Sarah's mouth. "Now this is a party," She yelled over the volume of the music.

"Not my kind of party," I grumbled, but quietly enough that no one heard over everything else.

Sarah grabbed my arm and tugged me to the drink table, but I like to think that I was learning to hate alcohol. I crossly grabbed a mug of butterbeer and took a quick sip, and surveyed the room anxiously.

"Alright, we were here, we saw people, heard music, and came in costume. Can we go now?" I moaned to Sarah as I sipped moodily.

"Nope," She said gleefully, and disappeared into the crowd.

"Traitor!" I yelled at her retreating back, although I'm not sure she could even hear me.

I huffed and glared daggers at anyone who approached me.

If you hadn't guessed, drinking parties weren't really my happy place.

Of course, fact that I was wearing a toilet seat around my neck certainly wasn't helping anything.

"Nice costume," I heard someone laugh.

I narrowed my eyes and turned around to see Fred standing in front of me.

I raised my eyebrows. "You're one to talk. What the hell are you wearing?"

Fred grinned. "I'm the Fat Lady. I'd have hoped you'd recognize the bane of your existence."

I couldn't help but laugh at him. I mean, his costume was worse than mine, and that was saying a lot.

He wore an enormous white dress that was vaguely reminiscent of the one the Fat Lady wore, and had stuck random flowers in his hair to mimic her flower crown.

"That is... Oh, my merlin, that's terrible," I choked out through my laughter.

Fred rolled his eyes. "Laugh all you want, but I'm a man of honor, and I lost a bet."

I nodded with fake sincerity. "Yes, because that costume is obviously both manly and honorable."

Fred shook his head. "Your words hurt me, Simmons. Anyway, have you seen Sarah? She said she'd be here if the could bribe you to come with her."

"More like threaten," I muttered. "She went to raid the drink table and look for you," I said louder and shrugged.

"Right. See you around then," Fred called as he picked up the dress to avoid tripping over it and sprinted off into toward the drink table.

Once again, I was left to glare at anyone who approached me and nurse my butterbeer sourly.

I made it through my first butterbeer and was seriously considering just leaving and facing Sarah's wrath later when the door of the room flew open.

McGonagall was standing in the doorway, signature icy glare directed at the inhabitants of the room.

Several people gaped, some froze, someone apparently screamed, and I dropped the mug I was holding.

And then all hell broke loose.

There was a mad rush for the door, but it was blocked. I was nearly trampled in an attempt to avoid the crowd, and barely even processed the fact that Sarah had grabbed my arm and I was being dragged toward a wardrobe in the back of the Room.

And then there were about five fifth years shoved into a wardrobe, which went about as well as you'd expect.

"Ouch, Fred would you -"

" - Godric, Jordan, you've got pointy elbows!"

"Shove off, I can't -"

" - and whoever that hand belongs to will move or be decapitated!"

"Merlin, Fred, I said move!"

"I'm bloody trying!"

"Lumos!"

I groaned as the space was lit up, the white light burning my eyes. I squinted as I waited for my eyes to adjust to the brightness, and sighed after surveying my surroundings. After the spots dancing in my eyes disappeared, I sighed. I was squashed against the wall of the wardrobe, Sarah's golden hat was so close to my face it was nearly suffocating me, and Sean's arm was pressing against my back.

"Who's idea was this?" Sarah demanded.

Fred looked guilty. "Erm..." He earned himself a whack on the head.

He looked to James for support, who just shrugged. "Mate, I'm not even sure we've got the right wardrobe, no less that it's still here."

"Well that's too bloody bad," Fred muttered as he started attempting to shuffle through the crowd of five to inspect one of the walls.

I scrunched up my face and tried to comprehend what was happening, with very little success.

James glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. "Oi, who brought her?"

Sarah shrugged innocently and I huffed. "Sarah brought me, and it'd be swell if one of you wankers could be bothered to tell me what the bloody hell is going on!" I yelled as I was shoved against the wall of the wardrobe.

No one paid me much attention.

Fred was still looking for something on one of the walls, while James and Sean occasionally tried pointing him in a different direction.

Finally, there was a cry of "Aha!" From Fred, and I shrieked as the wall behind me swung open.

I heard a cuss that had to have come from Sarah, and a lot of grumbling.

I stood up, grumbling about my sore backside, casted a quick Lumos to see, and glanced around.

"We're in the tunnels," I groaned.

Fred nodded proudly. "Yup."

I shook my head confusedly. "I didn't think that the Room of Requirement had secret passageways, though..."

"It does," Sean shrugged.

Sarah rolled her eyes at him. "Thanks for that."

Fred grimaced. "Eoin and Aaron'll be absolutely livid that we didn't grab them in time."

James shrugged. "They probably used the Cloak. I lent it to Aaron yesterday."

I tried to dust off some of the dirt that had stuck to my robes from the tunnel as we started following it, but it was a fairly hopeless task. The tunnel looked like it hadn't been used in years, but that was probably just because the House Elves didn't know about it to attack it with cleaning supplies. Our wands illuminated a good ways forward, and the tunnel curved to the left, but I still had to wonder where it would take us.

I heard a laugh from Sarah. "You dropped your toilet seat," she chuckled as she handed it back to be.

I glared and let her drop it.

"What are you, anyway, Simmons? The future, senile version of yourself?" James asked with a glance at my "costume".

I huffed. "I don't have to tell you," I said pettily.

"She's Moaning Myrtle," Sarah said plainly.

I shot her a glare. "Anyway, Potter, yours isn't much better," I lied. "What are you? A future, even more egotistical and narcissistic version of yourself?"

It was loads better than mine, and all he wore were quidditch robes.

Sarah giggled, and Fred glanced at James. "Well, she's got you there."

Sean nodded. "Sorry, mate."

James gasped. "After everything we've been through you betray me for Simmons?"

Fred shrugged. "She's got the occasional logical argument on her side."

"And a mean Arricneo hex," Sean added sagely.

I shook my head. "One time," I muttered.

"Anyhow," Sarah said pointedly, "Where exactly does this lead?"

Fred grinned. "Old Defense classroom."

I made a face. "Isn't that where Fawley and Webb go to snog?"

Sarah poked me. "Look at you, keeping up with the gossip. And actually, you're not keeping up; According to Tara, they've had some row about whether or not they should coordinate their costumes, and are currently broken up."

"Until tomorrow," I scoffed.

I heard a groan from Sean. "You're one of them!" He accused, pointing at Sarah and I.

I held my hands up in surrender. "I just wanted to make sure I wasn't walking into a mentally scarring situation!"

Sean looked like he wanted to argue more, but thought better of it. "You know what? I can accept that..."

I laughed and shook my head, but was inwardly considering studying to become a Legilimens just to ensure no one was secretly judging me.

We walked for a short time in silence, although it was broken by the occasional giggling of Fred and James scheming about something, which certainly wouldn't end well.

After what could have been anything from five minutes to an hour, the tunnel ended abruptly. We managed to find the handle to pull to swing open a portrait, and filed into the old Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

A substantial layer of dust covered everything in the room, although there wasn't much for it to cover. Old shelves that had been built into the wall were woven with cobwebs and littered with old parchment, but otherwise empty. There were a few portraits still hanging on the walls that had apparently been too horrible to transfer to the new room, and I could see why for some of them. For now, I'll just say that I was thankful that silencing charms worked on portraits.

And, because the fifth year boys had evidently made the room their own, there was a stash of Firewhiskey under a dust sheet in the corner.

I really shouldn't have been so surprised.

"Nice place," I said sarcastically as Sarah sneezed from all the dust.

Sarah nodded, sniffing moodily. "Really love what you've done with it."

Fred rolled his eyes at us. "Girls."

James and Sean snickered, while Sarah and I exchanged a rather annoyed look.

"So kind of you to notice," I deadpanned.

"Really," Sarah added, "Your observational skills have no match."

We didn't get much of a reaction from the boys, but they opened the first bottle of Firewhiskey. I suppose we weren't as clever as we thought we were.

Fred held the bottle out to Sarah. "Drink up, love," He grinned.

Sarah took it, mirroring his impish smile. "Don't mind if I do."

I groaned. "How do all of you know what hangovers feel like and still choose to drink? I'm done with alcohol for life after one!"

James raised an eyebrow. "Simmons, you are a sad creature."

"I'm also going to outlive all of you," I huffed.

"How very un-Gryffindor of you," Sarah commented.

I stuck my tongue out at her as I joined the rest of the group on the ground.

We fell into a sort of senseless conversation, discussing costumes and grades and quidditch and pranks, and somewhere along the way Sean decided it'd be a good idea to crumple some of the old parchment and cast a fire charm. We managed not to burn down the school while lighting it, and the fire provided heat in the cold, bare room, as well as a sort of comforting light that was less harsh than the blue light from our wands, so we decided that it was a good thing.

"So do any of you plan on heading back to the dorms before tomorrow?" I asked as I watched the fire and tried not to eye the fire whiskey too lustfully.

I was met with a few shrugs.

"It's Halloween," Sean grinned, "And we're some of the only students in our House not facing McGonagall's wrath right now. I'd say we've earned the right to drink and stay out late tonight."

James nodded and took another swig of whiskey. "That we have."

"You people are such bad influences," I mumbled as I reached for the bottle.






A/N: Thanks for reading! I'll sort of tie up some loose ends in the next chapter, but for now, I hope you liked it. ;) 

Reviews are amazing! :)


Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Favorite |Reading List |Currently Reading

Back Next


Review Write a Review
Riddikulus: In Which Halloween and Firewhiskey Happen

Review

(6000 characters max.) 6000 remaining

Your Name:
Rating:

Prove you are Human:
What is the name of the Harry Potter character seen in the image on the left?


Submit this review and continue reading next chapter.
 

Other Similar Stories


Its Always B...
by LoonyLady

Confessions ...
by Kelly Black

Average Ally.
by BlameItOn...